


The case to remember

by John_H_Watson



Series: The Case to remember [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-16
Updated: 2017-05-17
Packaged: 2018-11-01 07:34:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10917267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/John_H_Watson/pseuds/John_H_Watson
Summary: Sherlock Holmes has taken up his addiction once again, but this time has it gone to far? John H. Watson must help his dear friend recover quite a bit of lost memory when Sherlock overdoses and almost dies, meanwhile uncovering a lot of sherlock's secrets that John never knew about.





	1. Moriarty the Arsonist.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a warning. I am new to this whole thing so I didn't exactly know which boxes ment which. I am sorry if that has inconvenienced you in anyway. It is not complete either.

    _It's for a case_. At least that is what sherlock was inclined to tell Mycroft and John when they discover he have abused again. _Life is just so damn boring. No suprises every one is just too predictable. The only people that weren’t predictable were highly dangerous and right now either dead or have stown themself away for protection against Mycroft._  
   

Sherlock was irritable and it showed through his swift but abrupt movements as he tied the rubber band around his arm, and immediately raised his home made concoction injecting it into his arm. This time he did more then ever, because a dry season in cases made Sherlock feel insane with deprivation of any and all high’s.  
There was no hesitation in Sherlock's mind where there should have been. No second guesses. No pause just straight adrenaline as he shoved the thin steel needle into his vein and then succumbed to the rush of euphoria.

Nothing other then the thrill of James Moriarty's game or the rather inappropriate moan his phone gave when he got a text from a certain someone or maybe even when he caught john Watson's stare and they held it for sometime, nothing other then those three things could give him this feeling. And lately those three things had been absent in his life. John had been to busy with Mary, and Rosy. James Moriarty died sometime ago and that certain someone had become recluse…

Sherlock felt the tingling sensation grow and spread across his body. Swamping him.. Drowning him. He knew something was not right and those were his exact thoughts as he fell off his arm chair reaching for his phone. ‘John’ he whispered before his body became useless, just laying on the floor tying him down.

He didn’t know whether it had been days or seconds before he saw Johns feet pounding towards him. He heard John calling his name but it was as if Sherlock was underwater. In fact Sherlock was convinced he was because he couldn’t breath. He was under the impression if he opened his mouth the water would pour into his lungs and drown him, and while he often thought of death, and the adventure it might bring he wasn't ready. Not yet.

John seemed to be yelling at Sherlock but suddenly he wasn't anymore. No he was yelling at his cellular device. This made no sense to Sherlock. Here he was dying on the floor, but his best friend was having a row with another machine! Sherlock's lungs burned intensely but he stubbornly held his breath, he then began to wonder if he was holding his breath purposely or if he even had a choice at all. Eventually Sherlock slipped into his mind palace staggering into its front room.

'Gasoline. Why do I smell Gasoline?'

  
The smell nearly suffocated Sherlock. James Moriarty stepped forward his hair was tousled and his eyes were sunken, but he had a devilish grin plastered on his face as if he had finally won the game.

'tut, tut Sherlock you've been naughty haven't you'

  
Moriarty's condescending voice filled the room. Filled Sherlock's head. Sherlock fell to his knees in a coughing fit. The smell of gasoline was so strong. Moriarty smiled as he pulled out a match.

  
'yo-you don't even smoke' Sherlock managed to choke out.  
'aww Sherlock you haven't lost the ability to deduce all ready have you? well that's no fun..'

Moriarty teased as he toyed with the matches.

  
'here let me help! If you put an extremely flammable object like.. huh? I don't know? gas? next to lets say... a fire. then what happens??...'

Moriarty laughed manically and pranced around the weak Sherlock.

  
'a fire Sherlock! a fire! and together we are going to burn all your memories down with this one little match!' Moriarty pulled out the match book  
'No' Sherlock said in a whisper, but it was too late Moriarty dropped the match onto the gasoline soaked floor, and Sherlock watched as the entire mind palace burned down along with James Moriarty smiling and waving as he disappeared into the flames.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment do not refrain from any harsh critiquing I need it!  
> Flattery is welcome as well ^-^


	2. Chapter 2

**John:**

   I had watched Sherlock's every breaths and counted the seconds I'm between them. 5 days, for 5 days I have been in the hospital counting Sherlock's breath. "come on Sherlock its time too wake up" I told him multiple times as if at those words he would just open his eyes and all would be well. My throat felt tight many of these times but I pushed back those emotions. Never letting them spill out even when I was alone. Mycroft came in immediately after the accident, but once he heard of his brother's state he said his good byes and left. He hasn't returned since.

To him it was as if Sherlock was dead, but he wasn't. He was alive I checked his pulse multiple times just too reassure myself of this because sometimes his breathing would become so shallow it worried me, but he wasn't dead. No. If you laid your hand into his you could feel his heart beat in his palm. his warmth, but this warmth meant nothing to Mycroft OR the doctors. "there is an extremely high chance he will never wake up." these words still rang in my ears. the way time seemed to freeze as I just stared at my comatose friend. They believed those words. they believed that _doctor_ , but they didn't know Sherlock. No not like I did. Sherlock was resilient, and could cheat death himself. In fact He HAD cheated death plenty of times. this time it was just taking a little bit longer to bounce back..

Eventually the doctor must have left because I found myself alone and seething. Tired and frustrated. "wake up!!" I shouted at my limp friend. "wake up. Just wake up! you BASTARD!" I turned around and kicked the wall. I kicked it over and over and over again. Before I knew it a team of nurses came in and restrained me, but doing so was not that easy. The first one that laid hands on me ended up on his back. It wasn't until 4 or 5 security guards came in, did they get me into hand cuffs and only because I didn't want to shove them into Sherlock afraid that he might get hurt.

The doctor came in with a grief counselor to assess me. "the second stage of grief is anger.." I scoffed at them. "he's not dead! he is right there!" I argued pointlessly. "yes but you HAVE lost someone." they tried to reason with me, but I didn't lose anyone. Sherlock was going to wake up. He had too. He had no right to leave me, not after all we've been through together. "when is the last time you have slept?" the doctor asked. I could have lied. I should have lied, but what did it matter if I did tell them? "6 days" I said quietly only just then realizing exactly how tired I was, I felt numb and detached from myself, as if it was all a dream. Who knows maybe it was. maybe this was just all another night terror. This thought brought some relief to me. They kept talking but I drowned them out, wondering what Sherlock was dreaming about right now. Or if he was even asleep.

A sting in my right shoulder brought me out of my thoughts. It frightened me and I jumped. Two nearby security guards eyeing me started forward, but stopped when I made no further movements. How could I? I was still handcuffed. A nurse seemed to have injected me with something, I felt it immediately. It made me overbearingly drowsy. "now we are going to take off your handcuffs, your not going to cause you or yourself harm are you?" one of the security guards asked. I tried to push the words 'screw off' out but that took too much effort. The doctor stood up for me "look at him he couldn't hurt a fly if he wanted too he's about to keel over, in a dead sleep we put some pretty heavy stuff into him" the security guard hesitated, I closed my eyes done with their ignorance. Sherlock was right. This world was full of imbeciles.  I fought sleep so hard, but I couldn't keep my eyes open any longer, and so I succumbed. The guards must have taken the handcuffs off of me because I curled up into a ball and fell asleep.

 


	3. Chapter 3

  "John... (somebody shook me roughly) John!" I was startled awake. A painful tingling sensation rushed through my shoulder and down my spine. "wha-what?!" I immediately became defensive as gunshots faded from my ears, and the blurs in front of me formed into people. The ignorant doctor and the emotionless brother Mycroft. The gun shots were just a part of my dream. These two men however were unfortunately real.. Mycroft straightened up. "do you know the where about's of Sherlock?" I looked at Sherlock's empty bed. Relief filled me followed by dread and then finally fury. What an ignorant Dick! how could he do that? After I have been going through my own personal Hell, waiting too see IF he would even awaken and the moment I fall asleep he gets up and leaves! Frustrated I stiffened my own back. "No, When did he wake up?" I asked formally still staring at the bed. refusing to look either in the eye. "about 20 minutes ago he seems to have outwitted my surveillance, and does not want to be found. however he is in critical condition so if you have any ideas as to were he would go, then it would do you kindly to-" I scoffed at him. "I. Said. No." I stood up. "now if you excuse me I have wasted the past 5 days worrying about your inconsiderate, self righteous twin. So if it would do YOU so kindly as to move out of MY way!" I shoved past Mycroft and walked swiftly out of the hospital room.

  Once out of the hospital I decided not to take a cab, the hospital was only a few miles from 221 B and I could really use the walk. My shoulder ached, but I felt more sick than sore. I felt embarrassed. I had cared once again for someone who didn't return the favor. The thought of moving out of 221 B baker street crossed my mind. If I moved out then where would I go? Maybe I could just move out of the country. The prospect of not knowing anyone within a 1,000 mile radius seemed brilliant. Me and Rosy could start over. Then maybe I could forget about Sherlock. If that was even possible.. So it was set. I would go home and pack some clothes pick up Rosy from Molly's and move to Iceland or something.

 An hour later and more thought about which country I was going to take refugee to, and I landed upon 221 B baker street. I felt a deep dreadful feeling, and it rested in the pit of my stomach. I walked slowly up the stairs hoping Mrs. Hudson wouldn't hear me. I couldn't bear facing her. Telling her that I was never coming back. That I couldn't, I couldn't face Sherlock. I was just so angry at him! The hardest thought was going to be explaining to Rosy why we were leaving. Sherlock had sort have became her second father.. This thought just made me feel more guilty, but this guilt just influenced my decision even more. Sherlock lead a dangerous lifestyle and I didn't want to go through this all again when Rosy was older. If I continued this relationship between the three of us and Sherlock died when rosy was actually old enough to understand.. that would crush her, and I never want her to know what it is like for someone close to her to die. I made it into my flat without attracting any unwanted attention thank God. I immediately walked into my room and pulled out my suitcase from under my bed. The first thing I grabbed was my passport, and money. So that if Sherlock was too show his face then I could leave no questions asked. I then began to stuff clothes into my suitcase. I put no thought in what clothing I was taking, because I was more focused on the thought Sherlock could turn up any moment. I was very deep in thought but I was also highly aware of my surroundings. A shift behind me and I stiffened, someone was in my closet. I began to continue 'packing' as I opened my dresser and moved my socks around slowly pulling out my gun. I raised it towards the closet, and slowly approached it.

I have killed men before, but always for my own protection. Never out of pure anger. I have broken plenty of bones out of anger, but I always knew when enough was enough, but now I was calm and serene. My face placid as I pointed the gun at my victim. "wait, wait don't shoot I need your help" he begged. I didn't twitch a muscle. "Sherlock In Gods name. WHAT are you doing in my closet!? No better yet first tell me just WHY EXACTLY you left the damn hospital!?!?" I demanded ferociously. Sherlock straightened up but didn't relax, as neither did I. "I was under somebody's surveillance I needed to get rid of it before I could speak to you." Sherlock exclaimed. "Yes Sherlock it was your brothers" I said surprised Sherlock should have been able to deduce that immediately. "Sherlock what's going on? How did you not know that?" I asked finally lowering the gun. Something felt different and unsettling. Sherlock actually looked scared of me, and he wasn't acting impersonal at all. he was acting.. human.. "well I woke up in a hospital and while it was evident that we knew each other seeing as you slept in the hospital every day I was resident in it, I noticed that I was being watched,(feeling quite queasy at this moment I interrupted) "evident that we knew each other?" I asked weakly. Sitting on my unmade bed. "yes I will explain in a moment please just keep up.. So I went through your wallet, and found your address. Then I hid in what was clearly your room until you returned. I figured your place was safe, but that it would still be under surveillance so I came in through your window.."

"Sherlock. Sherlock what are you talking about!?" I demanded. "oh God! how slow are you!? I can't remember! The last thing I can remember is from my adolescence! and it is clearly obvious I am no longer a child!" I scoffed at those last words. "Your unbelievable Sherlock!" I turned around to finish packing. "no were are you going!? How is that unbelievable??" Sherlock cried out. I clenched my fist refraining myself from punching him. He was just doing this for an reaction. Sherlock the drama queen, trying to get me to forget about the fact he overdosed and nearly killed himself. Anger flowed steady through my veins. Why did I ever let myself get involved with this man. Why did I ever let myself get attached?! Sherlock became desperate. "seeing as  you don't believe me, I have no other choice but to threaten you. It is obvious you have a romantic attachment to your flat mate, if you leave then I would have no other choice but to torture him on information about you and me! " Genius this man was a genius! I stopped packing, a small idea popped into my head. I faced Sherlock. "how do you know I have an romantic attachment to my flat mate?" I asked. Relieved that I finally stopped packing and had my full attention on him. He was happy to preform. "the living area your chairs are facing each other, there are also scratch marks on the wood under them. This suggests that they get bumped into frequently, seeing as you have no visual problems and he plays violin,  it is evident , it is from late nights, when one of you is trying to be quiet for the other too sleep. The living area is also a mess, but your room is soo clearly neat, being as neat as you are. you MUST be romantically attached to this man in order to keep your mind. The mans attachment is obviously returned as well seeing as he clearly not someone used to sharing living quarters, and a person whom frequently secludes himself, and has a small group of friends if any.. but yet he still lives with you as a flat mate and your daughter. He would HAVE to have some sort of affection for you to allow that when it is so obvious he doesn't like people. You both have also been gone about 5-6 days-..." realization dawned on Sherlock. "I am your flat mate aren't I? wait are we in a relationship? " I finally began to believe that Sherlock didn't remember. "you really don't remember do you?" Sherlock rolled his eyes. "that's what I've been telling you John. I sure picked someone slow to be in a relationship with." I couldn't help but to smile, and I didn't correct him either.  I probably should have but I thought of it as a little revenge. Minute but still sweet. "Ok so we will call Mycroft . He will know what too do." I pulled out my phone too dial his number, but Sherlock grabbed my hand too stop me. "why would Mycroft have surveillance on me? am I a danger to him?" I  couldn't help but too laugh "Because he is your 'archenemy' " Sherlock was purely confused, but I ignored all further questions as I dialed Mycroft's number.

 

 

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

"I don't care how he outwitted your surviellence, you can ask him as soon as you get here! (knock at the door) hold on somebody is at the door" I told Mycroft while walking to answer the door. I opened it Mycroft stood in front of me looking bored, as if it took ages for me to answer the door. I snapped my phone shut annoyed and stepped back to let him in. "where is Sherlock? You said he was in poor state whats wrong with him?" Mycroft demanded. I looked towards my bedroom door. Sherlock peered around the door, like a child shy around strangers. He finally came into full view. Mycroft stared at him with a puzzled expression on his face. Sherlock stared at Mycroft in awe. "well he seems in perfectly good heal-" Sherlock caught Mycroft in surprise, as he embraced his older brother. Mycroft looked oddly terrified, and discomforted. He turned to me "what is wrong with him!?!" I couldn't help but to smile. Sherlock's hug put Mycroft so far into discomfort I almost forgave him for being.. well him. Almost. "It seems he has regressed into his child state. He doesn't remember anything except from his childhood." I explained as Sherlock stepped back from Mycroft and proceeded to sit down his eye's never leaving mycrofts face.

"what exactly do you remember" Mycroft said softly as if any harsh words my break his little brother. "My most clear memories originate from when I was 14, I have some memories afterwards but they are random and seemingly petty" Sherlock exclaimed. I was honestly surprised. In front of me oddly enough was the 14 year old Sherlock, and he seemed, well vulnerable. Mycroft nodded and walked over to the window staring down at the street below. I stood there waiting for someone too say something, but nobody said anything. Silence hovered over the both of them. "ok.. so we have to retrieve your memories. Just go to your mind palace and then maybe you could access them from there." I offered up. "my mind palace?" Sherlock asked "what's a mind palace?" Mycroft tutted "it isn't that easy John, even if he did know what his mind palace was. Memories aren't easily retrieved. It takes time, which we don't have."

"what do you mean? why doesn't Sherlock have time?" Sherlock had nothing to do he had no case's to work on. He should have plenty of time. Mycroft ignored me, but I pursued. "Mycroft. Why doesn't Sherlock have anytime?" I demanded. Mycroft turned to me "He was working a case for me, and if he doesn't solve it soon, then some very important people will be put in harms way. The rest of the details on the case are top secret" I pursed my lips. "so we need to get him to remember how do we do that?" I asked. Mycroft rolled his eye's "certain things will trigger his memories, we need to find those certain things and then his mind will start too heal itself." I nodded ok, Mycroft looked around the room. He spotted Sherlock's violin. "here" he said handing him his violin. I folded my arms and watched Sherlock for any reactions. Sherlock studied the violin then looked up at our expectant faces. "What ever is supposed to be happening isn't" he informed us. "right" I said "all right so why don't we try something different? Is there anything in this room you recognize as your own?" I attempted, an idea forming my head.

The idea was if we started with the older memories the one's that were more recent to the '14 year old sherlock' then we could achieve the newer memories too this day, because trying to get him to remember things that happened 5 days ago wouldn't work if he can't even remember past 16 years old.

Sherlock studied the room "no.." Mycroft smiled, obviously happy my idea didn't work as well. "well lets try your room." They both followed me to Sherlock's room. I pushed open the door the walls were covered in newspaper articles and pictures as well as red string, half of the ceiling was covered as well. I breathed a sigh whatever I had expected to find in his room, it wasn't this. This. This made me worry. It was obvious Sherlock was obsessing over something. I walked over too the wall staring at one of the news paper clippings "Afghanistan war hero returns home... '' wait a minute.." I pulled down the paper off the wall. Ben Cumberland, we served together... "Its evident what we are looking for is clearly not here." Mycroft spoke up. We both ignored him.

Sherlock stared at the wall studying it as if it was a puzzle. He walked towards his closet and opened it up I could hear some shuffling but took no notice, I was staring at the other newspaper clippings and paperwork. "John. There is nothing in here too see." he started towards me. I put my hand up stopping him. "no hold on I knew this man". I pointed towards Ben. "I also knew this man, and this man....." I suddenly realized. My entire unit was on here. I followed the red string up. All of the strings led to a picture of me in my Military Uniform. "John." Mycroft advanced forwards putting his hand on my shoulder.

Within seconds I had him pinned against the wall. "what is going on here?" I demanded. Mycroft had both his hands off. "John Violence is not going to solve anything" Mycroft's said calmly. "No, you see I don't believe that, and I am sure you won't either after I break your arm. So unless you want to reach that point then you will tell me exactly what is going on right now." I threatened him. I was calm my heart didn't beat a second faster, but that didn't mean I hadn't meant what I said. "I have little too no idea what my brother does in his free time." Mycroft answered. I laughed "yea right. you have people watching him all day long!" He was not as smart as I thought he was if he thought he was going too fool me. "Yes too see where he goes. whom he encounters. For his OWN safety. Not in his bedroom. I do respect some privacy." I paused and closed my eyes I could feel Mycrofts heart beat. I didn't change. it was steady. I released him. He straightened out his jacket. We both turned to Sherlock who wasn't even paying attention to us, he was preoccupied with looking in a small box of things. " I remember these.. I remember this." he said still not looking up.

 


End file.
